


Samantha

by Fericita



Series: Dangerous Secrets 'Verse [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Novel: Dangerous Secrets: The Story of Iduna and Agnarr - Mari Mancusi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita
Summary: In the recent discord chat, @marimancusi explained that the Disney team instructed her to use the name “Gale” in Dangerous Secrets for the wind spirit and that Olaf was able to glean that name in Frozen II because water-has-memory. Which led me to remark that if Olaf learned the name Gale from the wind spirit or water, perhaps Samantha was also a name the water or wind were speaking to him and her exact words were “Samantha fan fic - GO!”So, with vague spoilers for Dangerous Secrets, here is my Samantha story. Thank you as always to @the-spaztic-fantastic for beta-ing.
Series: Dangerous Secrets 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033725
Comments: 10
Kudos: 6





	Samantha

“What am I doing here?”

She looked down at her hands, barely visible in the darkness, startled to see what looked like a rock holding them and giving her a soft pat with moss-heavy hands of its own.

The rock spoke.

“You wanted a blessing. For your journey.” 

She thought, but couldn’t remember where she was going. With a panic that started to rise and form like the Northern Lights now visible across the sky, she realized that she didn’t even know where she was right now.

Or who she was.

The rock spoke again. “You were sad. But you are not sad now. You will be content.”

She examined herself as the panic glided away along with the brightness of the sky, the Northern Lights gone and the sky dark once more.

She thought the rock was right. 

She was not sad. 

But she was not content either. 

She was nothing. 

“I will be content?”

“You will, dearie. Once you finish your journey.”

The rock was leading her away from a clearing and towards the woods. The Northern Lights flared again and she could see a path there, recently traveled from the looks of the bent branches and crumpled grass. Had she come this way? 

“Go north, to Tautra, and join the sisters. They are always ready to welcome one like you.”

“Like me? But I don’t…” she considered what to say. It was strange to talk to a rock and stranger still to ask one for help but since no people were around it seemed like the best choice. “I don’t know my name. Could you tell me my name?”

“Why, you’re Samantha. And a beautiful name it is too. My favorite name for a human though none of them seem to want to use it yet. But you will.” The rock smiled and patted her knee and she felt a warmth begin there and spread through her whole body, and she suddenly felt able to walk for miles and miles. 

So she did.

She walked with a purpose she didn’t question, and kept away the questions that made the panic start to rise again. Instead of thinking  _ who am I, what is happening, how far am I going _ she thought  _ Tautra, sisters, Tautra, sisters. _ One word for each step.  _ Tautra  _ on the right foot.  _ Sisters _ on the left. 

She walked all night. As the sun spilled into the sky, the path led to a road and the road led her to a carriage that stopped after it passed her.

“Queen Rita!” the driver shouted. “She’s missing! Have you seen the queen?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve seen no one.” She looked down at her dress, covered in mud from her knees on down and her shawl snagged with twigs. She smoothed at her crown of braids and wondered if Queen Rita had met the living rocks in the woods this night as well.

The driver nodded to her. “Thank you, Miss. Do you need a ride to town? I’m searching next in Frosta.”

She tilted her head, considering. Her feet were beginning to feel sore and riding seemed like a more pleasant way to keep moving for a while. So she said “Yes, please,” and felt in her pockets for a krone.

“No need, Miss,” the driver told her as he opened the door and motioned for her to get in. 

As the carriage bumped and rattled along the mountain path, she took stock of what she knew.

She was traveling to the sisters in Tautra. She had krone in her pocket and well-made shoes on her feet. Her dirndl might have clues, but she couldn’t read the message in the embroidery if there was any. The interior of the carriage had intricate rosemaling and it seemed familiar, somehow. But as her eyes traced the crocuses and roses, the greens and purples and reds, she became lost in the story the flowers were telling and lost hold of the threads she had started to grasp of whatever story she was trying to piece together of herself.

The wheels made a less steady rhythm, but she still chanted  _ Tautra, sisters, Tautra, sisters  _ so she wouldn’t lose hold of that too. 

When they arrived in Frosta, the driver let her out and she heard him as he rode away, shouting “Queen Rita! We’re looking for the queen! Have you seen the queen?” 

She used her krone to buy a hot bun when the smell of it awakened hunger. She asked the baker how to get to Tautra.

“Ah! Come to join the sisters? Take your krone back, then, and pray for me when you do. The boat leaves from yonder at half past.” The baker pressed the coin back into her hand and gestured towards a pier where people were unloading and loading goods of all kinds.

Over the squawk of chickens and the clink of large chunks of ice, she inquired about a boat to Tautra. She paid passage and, as the oars hit the water and the sailors grunted with the effort of it, she said  _ Tautra _ for the right side and  _ sisters _ for the left, but quietly, because it was becoming clear that talking to oneself was not a normal thing to do.

The stone building reminded her of the rock she had spoken to in the woods and she half expected one of the stones to jump down from the archway and greet her. But when none did, she knocked on the door and waved to the sailors who were now rowing away from the island of Tautra.

A woman in somber robes and headdress answered the door, friendly crinkles around her eyes and a wooden cross hanging from a leather cord around her neck. “Welcome! Who do we have here?”

“I’m Samantha. I’m here to join the sisters.” She fiddled with the remaining krone, wondering if she should offer it, or if she should say anything about the rock who had sent her here. But the older woman smiled and opened the door widely.

“Come in then, Samantha, we’re delighted to have you.”

A month or so later, a group of soldiers knocked on the door during midday prayers. Samantha answered it, now wearing the habit and veil of the sisters and ready to welcome others as she had been welcomed. But the man at the door was angry and took a step back in surprise when he saw her.

“Rita?” said the man, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

She shook her head. “I’m not Rita. I’m Samantha.”

His face turned as red as his hair and his shoulders seemed to widen in anger. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rita, but I demand you return to the castle at once!” He stomped his foot and the sword at his side rattled. “You are a Queen! You have a duty!”

Samantha shook her head. “My duty is to God. And if you seek a queen, you should act like a king.” She turned and closed the door and rejoined the sisters in the garden. 

Sometimes she woke with a kulning in her throat, like a sadness that had been strangled. But the steady work of the day, the prayer, the meditation, the reading, the singing, it kept her from suffocating. 

The rock was right. 

She became content.

Watching the Northern Lights tugged at her and sometimes she thought she might even be feeling happy. She thought she could see the shape of someone there, dancing joyously in the ebb and flow of bright colors against a dark sky. The love she had for this person was tangible, she could almost feel it on her tongue. But it slipped away before she had a name for it, so she continued her prayers and before she went back to sleep she spoke  _ Samantha _ to the wind, praying that the shape of that someone would know that she saw him, would know that she was content to know he was happy. That her love would carry to him and he would feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tautra is an island in the Trondheimsfjord in the municipality of Frosta in Trøndelag county, Norway. In the 1200s Cicerstican nuns founded a monastery there.


End file.
